


He Just Couldn't Believe

by Bells_Hunt



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Engaged, Huntbastian, M/M, Songfic, military verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bells_Hunt/pseuds/Bells_Hunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian and Hunter are engaged and Hunter's expected to return from service abroad in a week, but things don't go as he promised they would. Songfic based on the song "Just A Dream" by Carrie Underwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Just Couldn't Believe

_It was two weeks after the day he turned twenty-two._

When Sebastian heard the knock on the door that day he never expected it to be. When he opened it, he just remembered the bottle of milk going to the floor. He didn’t even move when the glass burst everywhere. He stared at the letter in the gloved hand but he didn’t take it. Instead, he banged the door closed and kept there staring at the knob. His knuckles going white around it and every single organ inside him convulsing. He heard the knocks on the door, the bell ringing and the calls, -  _Mr. Smythe! Mr. Smythe, open the door, please! -_ but he didn’t move. He didn’t move for hours. Or was it a whole day?

He couldn’t say. Maybe it hadn’t been even thirty minutes, since a strong arm held him by the waist, trying to get him away from the door, as more uniformed men got in through the forcibly open window. After a single glimpse of moment when he leaned into it, yielding, he soon realized it was all wrong, the smell was wrong, the warmth was wrong and then he curved over himself and the arm that held him and threw his stomach up.

Once he was done, the man that was holding him tried to guide him to the bathroom, but Sebastian pulled away and grabbed the letter the other was still holding. 

"Fuck off. Out. Out of my house. NOW!"

_It’s like I’m looking from a distance, standing in the background._

His own voice sounded foreign to him as he shouted. A shred of him knew it was wrong. Knew they were just trying to help, but he didn’t care. He could’t care. And would he ever care again?

He didn’t have anything to care about now.

When they left, he used all his strength to drag every heavy furniture he possibly could to block the front door and then he started a frenzied process of locking and blocking the windows. His hands cut when he cleaned puke and glass from the floor, but he had to, he had to clean it all because Hunt was going to come back and yell at him if he didn’t. And he couldn’t disappoint him. He couldn’t let Hunt down.

He just couldn’t.

_Everybody’s saying, he’s not coming home now, this can’t be happening to me, this is just a dream._

He was washing his blood covered, trembling fingers on the sink, when he heard the phone. He had it ring till it stopped, his eyes glued to his own at the mirror. When it stopped, he hurried to the living room and pulled it from the wall, breaking his nails as he tried to dig it out and trowing it on the floor. He stared at it for a moment.  _Hunt._ He grabbed a trash bag and threw the rest of it inside it, before going to their room.

He stopped on the door and could feel his throat blocking.

_No, no, no. fuck. fuck. Shit!_

He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to cry because if he didn’t he could pretend it had never happened and if it never happened it meant he just had to wait a week. Just a week. Just a week and Hunt would be back. JUST A FUCKING WEEK.

_Lord please lift his soul, and heal this hurt. And he held on to all he had left of him_

He opened the door and entered the room swiftly grabbing his phone, his laptop and tossing everything on the bag before closing it, tossing it out and locking the door. He didn’t turn on the lights. He felt like he was floating as he walked to their wardrobe and opened it. Half of it was as tidy as always. He threw the drawer open and started to toss clothes out. No. No. No. He needed  _that one._ WHERE WAS IT?! He felt despair threatening to crush him but then he found it. His hands shook as he took the old Warbler shirt out of it and let it unfold on its own as he got up and embraced it burying his face on the soft fabric.

His feet stumbled him to bed and he fell right in the middle of it, curling up tight and grabbing Hunter’s pillow, he sank his face on both the pillow and the shirt and squeezed his eyes as tight as he possibly could. His nails dug on his arm till it broke his skin to hold the sobs back. He wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. Hunt was coming back. He was coming back. That was a fucking joke. He’d be through the door in a minute. Sebastian would punch him for fucking doing this to him and then sink in his chest and Hunter would hold him and everything would be alright.

He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t.

_Baby why’d you leave me, why’d you have to go?  
_

His fort held up for ten hours before they could enter the house and the room. He sobbed through every one of them. He didn’t cry over the shirt or the pillow. No. They had to hold his smell, they had to hold his smell because. The mattress was getting completely soaked when the door open. He didn’t look up. Not even when they touched him. But he wasn’t strong enough anymore to resist when soft feminine hands pulled him in. He let his face cloak on soft neck and sobbed for more one hour straight and Hunter’s mom sobbed with him as she held him. 

_I was counting on forever, now I’ll never know. I can’t even breathe._

Sebastian struggled as strong arms pulled him out of the bath tub.  _No._ He was almost there! The pain was almost gone. Almost gone. Almost…Why couldn’t they just leave him ALONE?! 

But how could he be more alone than he already was?

"You have to try for him, son."

He didn’t answer, reacted or moved as his father held his bare soggy body, or when he was picked up and lifted to the bed, dried up and clothed. Not when he was offered food, unless to throw up again all over his clean clothes. This time they didn’t leave him alone in the bathroom. They lay him down but he didn’t close his eyes. 

He fell asleep only twelve hours later. 

_And then the guns rang one last shot. And it felt like a bullet in his heart_

He was dragged into the service three days later. He hadn’t eaten since and he slept most of them away. When he wasn’t sleeping he held on to a picture of Hunter he stole from the living room by dawn when they were all asleep and just stared at it. Most of the time Lizzie curled up with him and held on to her soft white fur. When he’d cry, she licked his tears and bumped her head on his neck which only made him sob more. 

_He heard the trumpets from the military band, and the flowers fell out of his hands._

When the priest started to talk about Hunter as if he knew him, Sebastian tossed the fucking flag on the floor, jumped over the handrail and punched him. He yelled till all of them had left the church and then he let himself curve over the coffin and he was sobbing again.

He couldn’t tell when he started to hit the wood. He punched and hit and elbowed the coffin as he cursed him in all the names he knew. 

_YOU FUCKING PROMISED! YOU PROMISED ME YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU PROMISED ME!!_

It was night when the priest - with a black eye - came to sit on his side. Half an hour later, he was leaving, but Sebastian stood on the floor. They had to pull his fingers away from the golden handlers so they could take the coffin away. 

Sebastian didn’t attend the burial. 

Late that night, he sneaked out, got his car and drove to the cemetery. He knew where it’d be. The ground was still soft and raw, the violence on the grass like a silent scream on his head. He fell asleep lying on his side against the gravestone. And even as he slept his loose lips still murmured over and over again. The scream from before a soft light rustle now.

"You promised…"

_Everybody’s saying, he’s not coming home now._

In the morning he was woken up by the undertaker. He got back to his car and didn’t drive home. He had taken Lizzie, her things, his wallet, the picture, shirt and pillow with him. 

The last thing Hunt and him had talked about was how Hunter wished he’d gone to Canada once. And how it seemed like a nice place to live when they got old. 

_This can’t be happening to me_

Without him he was already old.

_He was dying._

And he was going to let old age take him in Canada. Just like Hunter promised him. Just like he fucking promised him. His fingers tightened around the wheels, getting white and he gulped his throat down.

"You promised me."

He felt smooth paw on his arm and didn’t turn to look at her.

"I fucking hate him. I fucking hate him. He promised us, Lizzie. He promised us."

Ten miles further he tossed  his phone out of the  window as it started to ring. For a moment he thought it was raining before he put his hand out. Then he realized those drops were too warm. 

_You promised me._

_This is just a dream._


End file.
